


choke me something awful, just like kisses on the necks of best friends

by toro (sapoeysap)



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Choking, Multi, Threesome - F/M/M, TikTok, a small love letter to alex albon's arms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-13
Updated: 2020-03-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:28:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23130955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapoeysap/pseuds/toro
Summary: one day, when it all blows over and all george has left is the physical photos. he will wonder how his life was blown apart by a tik-tok.
Relationships: George Russell/Alexander Albon/Lily Muni He
Comments: 7
Kudos: 46





	choke me something awful, just like kisses on the necks of best friends

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr user redpaint and i got to talking about alex's hands. which obviously leads to choking. then vanessa encouraged me, than i got sidetracked. 
> 
> and so instead i wrote 5k of feelings, threesomes and then suddenly remembering i had promised choking. in a way only my foolish brain can. lily was not meant to be in this. still unsure how she ended up in this. 
> 
> also apologies to jack aitken fans (myself) he appears enough to be tagged, but doesn't really do anything but be a little shit. 
> 
> this is a work of fiction. please do not presume I believe anything here to be real. And please do not share this work outside of ao3.

They take each other apart, hidden away from prying eyes. Unaware they do this act of breaking one another down both physically, mentally and spiritually. It would be soul crushing if either paused for a second to think about the actions. There is no dragging one another down in cruel words and looks. There is only bringing one another up in failed attempts at seduction and mistimed flirtations. Someone would argue it is cruel what they are doing to one another via the unspoken, but no one has paid enough attention. Because all George and Alex do together is radiate content, a comfort with one another, a friendship not just for show but deep down real, wholesome and pure. Best friends. Looks mistimed and misaimed by the world around them as friendship, not as desire hidden away by the normality of having to be straight in pretence.

Every look captured by cameras, the eyes of the paddock, is broadcast as ‘look at you I am so proud of you, my friend’, not, ‘take me back to your room and fuck me till all I see are the stars and the constellation in the sky above me is reflected in your eyes’. Neither of them poetic in that romantic language to understand the meaning and want behind that true desire. Do the cameras catch the tiny minuscule inches of difference between them, hairs breadth of stupidity? Do the cameras catch that every look is laden with intent? How each caption on Instagram is a test of pushing it just to grab the attention of one within a thousand. Written unaware that atoms away, that object of affection is writing the same thing. Captured so avidly.

Eggs crack in the pan with an audible hiss, the kettle boils loud, and both of them want to yeet their bodies over the balcony and into the Rivera. Sink down to the bottom like a stone and only come up for air when the bubbles on their skin have faded and seaweed has caught them to the bottom of the ocean. Come up gasping when they have made their realisations and know them to be true. Instead they pour tea into personalised mugs that they keep at one another’s separate apartments. It’s so fucking domestic and they are so blind to it and one another. Who keeps a set of personalised mugs, that’s four mugs, in an apartment on the London skyline and an apartment reasonably priced in the Monaco bougie. George and Alex of course. They eat breakfast, now practically brunch judging how high and mighty the sun is in the sky, beating down on their skin, relentless summer air.

George wants to choke on the words that are bubbling inside his throat, instead he just chokes on his eggs. And nothing transpires. For they are not yet and may never be, at the point of openness with each other to say the words that linger in throats, frozen in looks. George and Alex, two thirds of the supposed ‘f2 boyband’ collective. Undeniable in love with one another, undeniably cowards in admission of this truth.

Collapses these precarious unspoken in the most gen z of methods.

* * *

George knows his life is messy, so many twists and turns so he can turn up at the track and be perfect. Jack is smiling across the debriefing table this mischievous look; one that's been two years since he last saw properly. Perhaps, Aitken’s devilish grin should have been the giveaway. Jack’s presence in the garage is something George has been fearing since Claire had mentioned ‘Top Secret, but we are in talks with Jack Aitken to bring him from Renault to us’ and George had smiled his presentation pearly whites. Aitken’s crinkled face is so familiar to George from ART teammate photography. But it’s the smile George knows means trouble.

He's told Jack secrets in hotel beds years ago when he thought that it would not equate anything. Jack’s even pushed a kiss to the corner of George’s lips, after a teary confession from the younger Brit. A go-get em encouragement that had meant nothing, but a sign of support coupled with friendship and sprinkled with the delights of no homo.

They leave the briefing, George wants to offer a catch up to Jack, but his phone buzzes with a message. Jack looks pleased by the vibration, disappears in the bustle and somewhere unknown to George, probably to call his Alex.

While George’s Alex has sent a link. George shouldn’t think of Alex like this, but it’s the way his brain separates them.

It’s a tiktok.

George finds his world blown apart in the middle of a corridor at William’s HQ from a tiktok sent by Alex Albon. A tiktok he prays was sent on error but has a thrumming under his skin that say’s it wasn’t a mistake at all. Scheming fucking Jack Aitken spilling secrets that aren’t his to tell. George doesn’t want to admit to himself that he’s slightly happy if terrified that Jack has made a leap on his behalf, one that George himself has been scared to make for a long time.

There’s a girl on the screen. Some track and a stupid dance. ‘Girls who like choking’ she points to herself.

Alex’s text that had accompanied the link just say’s ‘you at me’

This means a lot of things, that George cannot analyse. But the text he gets from Jack a few moments after, from wherever in the same building. Just says.

**Took the step for you. Good luck.**

Jack probably should not have told Alex about George’s choking kink. But all 52 cards are out on the table now, and Alex has played George’s bluff. This is not a mistake of a message; this is laden neigh dripping with intent. And George has so many options for his next play but pulls a joker from the pack. The twisted smile and harlequin ears laughing at him as calls Lily instead.

Her laugh is delightful down the phone, wicked sarcasm to go toe to toe with her boyfriend. This time she is not sarcastic. Instead she’s inviting him out to California for a little pre-season getaway, George feels like all of his winter break has been consumed by pre-season getaways, caveats of training sessions in exotic locations.

Instead he turns up, on a flight. Booked with his air miles because to hell with it. A key pressed to his palm that had arrived too his London Apartment in a brown envelope, addressed in Lily’s sprawling handwriting. He presumes its presence means that she will be out when he arrives, even though he forwarded his flight plans.

So, he orders an uber just to suffer through LA traffic with a key jammed into his palm.

Enters Lily’s apartment to find her peering over Alex’s shoulder, while Alex fucks her up against the wall.

There are a lot of things George should do in this moment, instead he finds himself wondering whether to focus on the way her feet are in delicate points, curved against the toned muscle of Alex’s ass. Or the way Lily is staring directly at him, eyes clouded with lust.

Alex has her pinned against the wall with his hands. A stupid display of strength that George would be jealous off if he didn’t have the exact same, give or take, training regime. Alex is surely unaware that George is interloping on this most intimate of settings. It’s not a kink for him, this voyeurism, but obviously it’s enough for Lily, she’s moaning into the air, crescendo across into orgasm within five minutes of George watching. He’s adjusting himself in his pants, half praying that Alex doesn’t turn around, full well knowing that he himself should have turned around the moment he set foot in the apartment. Alex follows her into oblivion, George has no option other than to watch Alex’s hips thrust once, twice, and then tail off into twitching. This is a lie, he has another option, leave, but his brain is clouded, and he doesn’t take it.

‘George’, Lily say’s, open and cheery.

Alex makes an undignified splutter, nearly drops his girlfriend from where he’s keeping her up against the wall.

‘Did you just say George?’

Alex sounds heartbroken, George hates it. He should speak up. Explain. But what is there to explain, he’s here on invite. Just poorly timed.

‘No George is here; I was saying hello’

Lily laughs, angelic across the room as Alex pulls out and she drops to the floor with sex weary legs accompanied by a gentle ‘oof’. Ever graceful. Alex turns around, stares open mouthed at George. All George feels is the heat from Alex’s eyes, as his friend roams over George’s tried and tested long haul flight uniform. Comfy hoodie (Alex’s at one point), jeans failing to hide a boner, suitcase just behind him. George in return, runs his eyes over Alex, who is clad in nothing but a sleep ring and his normal bracelets. Alex’s cock is only now softening, a glimpse of wet at the base. No condom, which means Lily, who seems unashamed in her nakedness, has Alex dripping out of her right now.

In an alternate universe, George would drop a casual ‘Hey’ and then stride to put Lily in the same position Alex had had her, propped up against the wall, and proceed to eat Alex out of her. Instead, because he’s British. He manages a clumsy wave and then puts his hands back in his pockets while Alex flings clothes onto himself and his girlfriend, praying neither Alex nor Lily notice him adjusting his boner via his pockets.

Somewhere, in rainy England, Jack and his Alex are cackling at George’s expense.

Instead he awkwardly is led to the guest room by a bashful Alex (clad in boxers that George is desperately trying to tear his eyes away from)

Stumbles into the bathroom that Alex show's him too before he takes before his planned quick jet lag prevention nap, A rookie mistake he thinks, as he hops into the shower and tries to will away the boner before giving up and jerking off fast and rushed. Trying not to think about the way Lily eyes had bore through him. He splatters the shower tiles with cum thinking about the fact both Lily and Alex know about his choking kink. Entirely fucked. Stupidly so. Alex is sat on the guest room bed when he gets back from the bedroom. With the smile he has when he thinks no one is watching on his face, not that George knows the differences between his smiles. Not at all.

‘So, my girlfriend is a schemer’ Alex' speaks to break the ice.

‘Not as much as Aitken’

Alex looks perplexed at that comment, which further confuses George.

‘What’s Jack got to do with things’ Alex pauses, George sort of wishes Alex was using his winded voice, ‘Never mind. Look I’m sorry you had to see that’

‘I’m not’ George says, like a dumbass whose blaming his lack of braincells on the jetlag.

‘Me neither’ Lily say’s from the door.

It’s like his life is a shitty porno, the kind they’d probably find on Lando’s search history and not like the good chaste clean-cut stuff George purchases.

They sit on the bed, in front of him this perfect couple. In designer hoodies and joggers, Lily’s is cropped, and the glimpse of her toned stomach is making George’s stomach do swirls.

‘This doesn’t explain the tiktok’

‘Knew it!’ Lily exclaims with a giggle.

George clambers on to the bed, his PJ shorts will hide less than his jeans do, its safer (probably) to be in between Alex and Lily. Hiding boners in the sheets.

There’s conversation above him, arms around him. And he wakes up a few hours later half snuggled into Alex’s side. Lily nowhere to be seen.

‘She’s cooking dinner, grilled peppers alright with your diet?’

George sort of mumbles an affirmation at Alex.

‘Do you want to be choked out’, Alex asks, George think’s it might be easier, with his head half tucked into Alex’s side and the older man unable to actually see his face. Alex is sat up watching something on his iPad, George for sure is finding it easier to discuss this situation without being able to make eye contact, choosing to press his nose into the tiny glimpse of flesh that’s exposed by the way Alex’s sweater has rolled up.

‘Yeah. But only by you, I’ve thought about it a lot since last summer’

‘Since the …’

‘The throat infection, yeah’

Alex’s laugh vibrates through his stomach and through George’s nose.

George tries not to think of the way he had woken up in that Villa last summer, sharing bed space, waking up looking direct into Alex’s face, throat feeling raw like sandpaper. He’d gone to a doctors, explained in broken English and ended up flying home. Stood in the boots outside Terminal 5 arrivals buying Lemsip and wondering if Alex is enjoying the bed to himself or missing the curve of George’s body. He’d never bothered to ask, just sent a ‘home safe, sorry’ text to the group chat and endured the banter he got in return.

Now in the present he can be honest, without fear of repercussion bouncing off the group chat. ‘I thought you were testing me, it felt like such a call out. You don’t seem mad though’

‘Far from it, have you got a safe word?’

‘Lando’ George jokes, just to feel Alex’s chuckle again.

‘Boyband’ he follows up with, honestly.

‘Like what the fans call us’

‘No like One Direction you idiot. I’ve never had to use it though’

Lily yells at them for food. And they drift through to the kitchen, Alex intertwines their hands easily, and it puts George at ease. The grilled peppers are good, the company even better. It doesn’t feel pressured, sat around the Lily’s table eating and talking. Music turned down in the background, a low hum of songs orchestrating this domestic intimacy.

It’s one of those evening’s that wind’s down easily. George helps Lily light candles while Alex picks a film out from the Netflix queue. Everything feels perfect, slotted in together in in jokes and making new memories. The nap earlier had helped, but by ten pm George feels his eyelids drooping.

When he wakes up, the bed beneath him is soft, different to the mattress of the guest room. George figures Alex has carried him there, stripped him down to his boxers and tucked him in. His arms are wrapped around Lily, entangled with Alex’ whose arms are wrapped around his girlfriends from the other side of the bed.

George feels he does a lot of waking up in beds with Alex and not doing anything about it. Maybe just now, in this little space they've carved out for themselves, with words and intent in the open, he could change things, do something about his feelings. He sneaks out from under Lily’s arms, pads down to the kitchen and works out Lily’s coffee machine. It’s fancy, probably gifted by someone, the bliss of being an athlete. He pops the capsule in and the smell of coffee bursts into his nostrils. Manages to get all three cups back into the bedroom easily and tuck himself back into bed. Neither Lily nor Alex have stirred in the five minutes or, so he’s been gone, but they start too, probably at the smell of coffee.

‘Morning’ George finds the greeting easy, the sleepy replies in return sound nice in his ears. Maybe that’s why he leans in, presses a kiss to Lily’s lips, lets Alex pull a hand through his hair. It’s far to brief to truly explain everything George needs to through the connection of soft lips, but he’s being pulled back by Alex’s hand. Kissing Lily is good, familiar in the way that kissing girls is. Kissing Alex is new, a harder jaw, a firmer kiss. They both taste of lip balm and morning breath. He pulls apart from Alex reluctantly, tucks back into his pillows with a wry smile, sipping at his own coffee.

Eventually, they drain their cups. There’s a tension, that George feels in himself, unsure if they feel it too. Like everything is so thick, he feels like he’s moving through honey. Maybe it’s the fact its only still just past eight am. Perhaps Lily and Alex feel nothing at all, not the way her silk pyjama clad leg is thrown so haphazardly over George’s bare thighs. Like its nothing, a point of contact so easily given. George makes an excuse to the bathroom, goes about things with a steady breath, bonus minty fresh. Splashes his face with warm water and looks at his reflection in the mirror. Just the same old George stares back. He should be scared. But he’s not. He treats himself to some of Lily’s moisturiser, the smell of clean Aloe Vera and some flower he can’t place fill the room.

Lily’s still lounging on the bed in her matching silk pyjama set, a slight hint of nipple on show from where the vest top has slipped down. George wonder’s if it’s on purpose. Maybe, from the way she’s staring at him, all innocent like she’s done no wrong in her life. Which she probably hasn’t. Alex appears and sneaks through into the en suite behind George like it’s nothing, just a trace of a hand on George’s shoulder. He’s standing there in his boxers feeling very much like a clown, he and the whole world (well Instagram) know he’s ripped. But under Lily’s gaze, he feels very inadequate. Especially when Alex re-emerges from the bathroom, all pretty skin and sharp collarbones. George wonders if Lily has every kissed across the scar, in the way that he himself dreams about in his most shameful fantasies. He cannot compare to them, so beautiful and perfect together. He’s like a sore thumb. Sticking out.

Alex’s hand pushes him onto the bed, the touch to his bare skin is electric. Alex probably slides onto the bed behind him gracefully, and George feels like he falls into Lily’s arms all ungainly limbs and a loud puff of breath.

‘You good?’ Lily asks, and George realises she means more than just simple polite phrases.

Words are escaping him for once, he kisses her instead.

It pulls things together. George leans into Lily, pulls her vest up over her nipple like the actions are going to follow are going to be innocent, when all three of them know they are not. She grabs his hand, steady, guides it to pulling her vest back down, the silk feels luxurious beneath his hands.

Alex is behind him, laying his body out on top of George and Lily. It’s a balance, to not crush Lily under their combined weights. He’s kissing Lily like he needs it for air, but Alex is pushing kisses to his neck that sting. They feel worse than the pressures of his neck defying g-forces around the track every season. Biting, even as Alex is being so soft. This is everything George has wanted and thought he wasn’t allowed. Perhaps that’s why he feels like he’s going to crumple at every kiss. The moment Alex touches his lips proper this could be all over. A part of himself is wondering if he should feel guilty for pushing his hardness up against the inside of Lily’s thigh. Even while he’s sucking on her nipple, dripping saliva all over the hardened nub. He has full permission here, and it’s a scary thought. Her moans are going straight to his stomach, accompanied by Alex’s deep grunts.

That’s when he feels it, Alex’s hardness pushed up against his back, not quite his ass. And that’s when George knows things have to change. The promise that’s been made.

‘Am I getting choked or what’

If he isn’t so guided by his raging hardness and the pretty bed mates he has, George might have been proud of the way his voice stays steady as he speaks.

Lily lights up underneath him, George knows behind him Alex has the matching smile. There perfect for each other like that. But he doesn’t worry where he slips into this, because everything is moving, suddenly they are a slightly ungraceful movement. George is just thankful that Alex apparently still has that air of British awkwardness about him, that not even a thousand modelling opportunities and having a beautiful athletic model-esque girlfriend can train out of him.

By the time they’ve resettled, all three of them are naked, long elegant limbs and muscles. All bruised collarbones, bursts of blood rising to the surface on necks, smattered with hickeys from untraceable owners. Kissing’s nice, but if George doesn’t get a mouth on his dick and a hand round his throat then it might just be a waste of air miles.

‘Shut up you oaf’, Alex’s bat to the head deserved. George isn’t really sure why he’s been hit, but he presumes his brain is running out loud. Brain to mouth filter lost in the making out all pushed flush against one another.

George wonders if its appropriate to ask if he can eat Lily out, he’s just brushed fingers against her cunt, entirely on accident, still slightly unsure if he’s allowed. Her wetness feels nice on his fingers, her moan had sounded nice in his ears. ‘For fuck’s sake George your as bad as Alex the first time we fucked’. Lily’s words go straight to his dick, already so hard, now it pulses with her words. How pretty that must have been, how badly he want's to watch them fuck. Apparently, Alex is on the same brain wave as him, they meet each other by bumping heads down at the apex of Lily’s thighs. George for half a second wonders if Lily’s the first girl that’s ever had the luck of sharing two formula one drivers, and then he remembers the seventies and the thought disappears. It’s hard, two people trying to eat a girl out at the same time, awkward, sloppy, wet in three different ways. She’s gasping though above them and even George find’s its easy to let grunts out especially as he drags his hard cock against the bed.

Alex sounds like he is doing the same. There’s not really enough space for them to add fingers, but Alex is reaching his hand up anyways, slipping them in alongside George’s tongue. Lily comes apart easily after that. When Alex pulls away George figures, he can be cheeky, take a couple long licks direct to Lily’s clit, enjoy the hand in his hair closing down. By the time he surfaces, Alex is leant up on his knees, cock jutting proudly from his body. Lily looks sated but perfect, red cheeks and kiss bruised lips.

‘I think fucking might be too much for first time’ Alex says, with some confidence George rarely sees on his friend. George wants to protest, but Alex is probably right, he’s not sure his mind has come to terms with the whole situation. The implication is Alex would fuck him, and George isn’t quite sure how that sits with him.

‘Can I ride him instead while you choke him?’

‘Which one of us is him?’ George asks, like a dumbass. Who fully knows that he is the ‘him’ in question.

It takes a minute, of awkward totally unsexy conversation with some bonus cautionary repositioning to work out how to go about this. Lily sort of falls off the bed in her most ungraceful move. George watches on as Alex kisses her toes and helps her back up. At the end of it all, George is sat up against the headboard, rolling a condom on to his dick, helping Lily up on to his lap. That’s when Alex blows his mind in one sentence, just as he slips inside Lily.

‘Do you think you can take the both of us Lil’

George pushes Lily down and holds her still to his thighs, using all his strength to keep her from moving and ending this all too quickly. Even the slightest of twitches in his hips is sending spasms across his abdomen, so hard it is to put off orgasm. He knows she’s wet enough for it, its just if she acquiesces. Alex fingers are suddenly sliding in next to George’s cock. ‘Yeah’ Lily says, which means its game on.

George loves the ease of it, how there’s no difficulty or qualms between the three of them, how easy this is all working out, fluid, reactionary to three different people’s whims. There’s a trust between them he hasn’t appreciated before, but there’s a pop of a lube cap and Alex’s fingers slicking Lily up properly all the while George keeps Lily still through her moans.

It’s a bizarre feeling. How Alex slides in next to him inside Lily. All he can see is Lily’s face, gorgeous, hair falling in her eyes, mouth caught in a moan. Alex appears from behind her, hooks his head over his girlfriends’ shoulder and whispers in her ear. It’s when Alex pushes Lily down flush against George, do things kick up fully. The action take’s a second, Alex slips out from Lily and has to jostle to push himself back in. Causing more friction, George takes a second to wheel his hand up in between himself and Lily, just to play with the nub of her nipple.

Alex is against them now, and they slowly start to move in unison, a crush of bodies. Which is why, George figures, the press of Alex’s hand against his throat takes him by such surprise.

Hard to say, what’s more powerful, the soft pleasured gaze of Lily, filled up by the both of them. Or the dark intent on Alex’s face as he tightens the grip around George’s throat.

It’s a lot, even though the thin layer of latex his cock is sheathed in. George can feel the way his breathing is starting to come to a stop, the short gasps of air he’s trying to take in through his nose, the way he’s failing. The pressure on his adam’s apple hurts. Tight and constricting. And when he finally thinks its it, and that unconsciousness calls for him, Alex let’s his hand loose. George get’s a few gasping seconds to realign, thrust up into Lily with more intent, before the hand’s back around his throat and pushing on his pressure points.

‘That looks so hot’ Lily say’s, all blushed cheeks. George has closed his eyes, otherwise he might see what Lily’s seeing, the muscles in Alex’s arm flexing as he constricts George’s breath. This time around, it’s enough to make George start seeing stars behind his eyes. Go hazy with lack of air. He doesn’t quite black out, not properly, but by the time the hand on his throat is loosened again, recalling the past few minutes are difficult. Lily’s smiling again, George feels Alex’s dick thrust with serious intent. This isn’t going to last much longer, its hurtling towards a conclusion. George is surprised it isn’t him that orgasms first, maybe the way Alex can get more movement allows him to fall over the precipice quicker. George opens his eyes, to Alex’s orgasm face peering over Lily’s shoulder, winded ruddy cheeks, beads of sweat dripping down. The morning California sunshine is peering through the window. Alex slips out and its enough to send George over too, filling up the condom while he watches Alex rub Lily’s clit with a practised hand. She comes apart on him with a shout, it blocks out the rushing of air in his ears. Her head rests easy on his chest, before she gently pulls out and dances through on tip toes to the en suite.

‘You good?’ Alex says, from where he’s peeling the condom of George’s spent dick.

‘You don’t need to do that’ But George doesn’t make a move to stop Alex.

‘Thanks’ he says, like an apology.

‘Come on you, lets go get cleaned up’ Alex’s voice sounds perfect, tired yet content.

‘Pretty girl waiting for you in the bathroom’ Shouts Lily.

George smirks, leans up to kiss Alex again.

‘Big day ahead. Thinking a hike and then you can throat fuck me with your dick later’

Alex splutters.

Lily throws herself on the bed. ‘Sounds like a good idea really doesn’t it babes’

George tries to not let the extra S on the end of the babe that falls from Lily’s lips affect him, could just be a slip up. But he’s blinded by the flash of a disposable camera, too caught up in the panic of ‘oh shit I’m naked’ to concentrate anymore on the intricacies of pet names. He snaps a few shots of Alex and Lily once she’s reassured him, she has a secure printer and they won’t go beyond the bedroom. Make sure he aims the view finder on faces and torsos only.

(And when the pictures are printed and collected from the store just before George flies back to London and to his empty flat with a new key on his fob. They look through them in the airport car park, killing time before George is pushing a late boarding. His favourite is one of all three of them in the bathroom mirror, detritus of there morning around them. Naked save underwear half ready for their hike. Lily in the middle holding the camera like a professional. Three of them all bruises, boxers and lace. He calls them up the moment he opens the door to his flat. They’ve exhausted fucking in every room in Lily’s apartment. That means his flat and Alex’s out in Monaco are now prime estate for debauchery. And he’s already missing the feel of Alex’s hand around his neck, and Lily’s soft kisses to ease the bruising. There are still a couple months left in winter break after all.)

**Author's Note:**

> inspite of this not being part of the interludes universe, i wanted to give this a sad title. pete wentz thank you for being in love with patrick stump. i've got a dark alley and a bad idea that say's you should shut your mouth (summer song). which i feel is actually a very apt george song in that sad depression way. obviously i changed joke for choke.
> 
> [tumblr](https://alphatoro.tumblr.com/)


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